


Volki

by sinuous_curve



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Biting, Community: kink_bingo, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinuous_curve/pseuds/sinuous_curve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“When she was a girl,” James says to Clint, trailing his thumb along Natasha’s spine, “we called her </i>volchitsa<i>.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Volki

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Audienced by locketofyourhair.

“When she was a girl,” James says to Clint, trailing his thumb along Natasha’s spine, “we called her _volchitsa_.”

Natasha exhales at the old name, left behind with Natalia and the rest of Red Room. Clint’s thumb soothes over her shoulder blade, tracing a little line of scar that she no longer remembers how she got. 

“ _Volchitsa_ ,” he repeats, tripping slightly over the pronunciation. Nat smiles. James’ accent comes and goes with his moods and the tide, and hers belongs to that past. But Clint’s tongue is the only one who treats each word like of her mothertongue like a small obstacle to be conquered. “What does that mean?”

“Wolf,” Natasha says before James can. 

James chuckles a little. It sounds rusty, like he isn’t used to it. “ _She_ -wolf,” he corrects. 

“Wolf?” Clint cocks his head, looking at Natasha and then over her shoulder to James. What exists between them, her boys, is an armistice in most moments and then they end up like this. Naked limbs and warmth, and she is fairly certain neither of them know what this should be called. 

“Yes.” James fans his hand in the small of her back. “The spider came later. She bit like a wolf.” 

Natasha hums a soft noise of agreement. “When I was a girl.” 

She watches Clint take in the small piece of her past, so long locked away with all the things she would not speak of and that he would not ask about. And then Clint smiles, small and constrained and still sharp and a blade around the edges. “Not any more,” he says, pushing himself up onto his elbow. 

There are bruises on his chest from her teeth, shaded blue and black like tiny inverse pinpricks of stars. James laughs on her other side, and reaches over her to press his thumb against one. Clint’s face flickers at the touch, then the small sharp pain that follows. It is an unreadable look, and Natasha smiles. 

“Old habits,” she says, and shifts onto her back. 

The sheet flung haphazardly across them falls at her waist. She stretches, curling her hands around the headboard and arching her shoulders away from the mattress. She can feel James and Clint’s eyes roam over across the topography of her body. The rise of her breasts. The dip below her ribs. 

Clint cups one of her breasts in his hands, flicking his thumb over her nipple. Natasha sighs. 

“ _Is he a wolf_?” James asks in Russian, staring at Clint’s hand. There are small cuts on his knuckles from the last Avengers encounter -- with AIM, this time. AIM and their mechanical monsters. 

Natasha thinks of Clint perched on the top of a building, raining down arrows. “ _He’s a hawk_ ,” she says. “ _But sometimes. Everyone has different sides._.”

“I know you’re talking about me,” Clint says in a quiet voice. 

James reaches across Natasha again and drags his thumb over Clint’s cheekbone. “And how do you know that?”

Clint shivers, his hand tightening on Natasha’s skin. “ _Yastreb_ ,” he says, still fumbling for the pronunciation that comes so unnaturally to him. “It means hawk. I looked it up.”

And now it is Natasha who laughs, so delighted with him that she can’t help herself. She loves James like a child will always love their teacher, but it is entirely different with Clint. She loves him like a captive loves their savior. He didn’t kill her, and she won’t kill him. And he learned the Russian word for hawk. 

“It is,” James agrees, with a sudden consideration in his voice. And then, “Can you be a wolf?”

Clint looks up from his hand on Natasha’s skin, to James. Her eyes are sharply focused, uncertain as they always are when he has to confront the reality of what Natasha was for so many years. But he curls his mouth in something that is mostly a snarl instead of a smile. “I can be anything,” he says. 

“So can I,” James agrees. 

Natasha sees what will happen before they do. 

James shifts onto his stomach, sliding his hand up Natasha’s rib to palm at her other breast. His mouth is warm and hot against her skin and she shivers just a little. He kisses her peaked nipple, then catches it between his teeth. There is not enough force to hurt, but enough that she feels it along the nerves that lead to the base of her spine. 

And Clint, because he has to be the best or else he has no worth, follows suit. His teeth close on her skin with less finesse, but perhaps with a greater understanding of what shape her desire now takes. Natasha sighs in the back of her throat, and pushes her hands into their hair. James’ is so long now, nearly to his shoulders, and Clint is spiked from having spent the night on his back. 

“ _Moi volki_ ,” she says. “My wolves.”

James cocks his head just a little, and then his teeth sink into the soft skin of her breast and Natasha cries out, curling her feet into the mattress and letting her hips flex upward for a touch her cunt will not find. Clint jerks a little at the noise, raising his head to see her face and know to his own satisfaction that she isn’t hurt. 

Natasha catches his eyes, James’ teeth marking her skin. 

“Bite me, _yastreb_ ,” she says, and Clint lowers his head.


End file.
